


Outsider

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [13]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, I'm Sorry, Meltdown, Slurs, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Veronica finally talks to Heather Chandler about Heather McNamara.





	Outsider

**Author's Note:**

> !!CW!!
> 
> this chapter contains elements of child abuse/psychological abuse, the r-slur and meltdowns. if any of this makes you uncomfortable, it is best you do not read.

_ REMINDER: _

_ TALK TO HEATHER. _

_ TALK TO HEATHER. _

_ TALK TO HEATHER, _

Veronica repeatedly scribbled on different places on the back of her hand, her wrist and arm.

_ DON’T CHICKEN OUT. _

_ TALK TO HEATHER. _

The reminder was set in several different areas on both hands, where she was bound to not miss. So long as she didn’t rub her face with her hands, she’d be fine. Otherwise, she would have an extra black smear to match with the bags developing under her eyes.

Day two, and she already felt like a deflated pool floaty left in the water to shrivel up. Soon enough, flies would come and camp out on her after mistaking her for an island. Or maybe a pile of trash; she doubted she had a great scent right now. She’d forgotten to have a fucking shower last night, and then had slept right through her alarms this morning. Cue her scrambling out of bed when realising the time being shown on her clock. And hastily getting dressed, shoving a slice of toast down her throat and darting out of the door.

She hadn’t meant to get so little sleep last night. Only, her schedule was thrown out of the window with her visit to Mara’s house, and she had ended up falling asleep cuddled up next to her. It was so hard not to - she was exhausted, Mara was warm and her mattress was as soft as cotton candy. Nodding off was inevitable.

Now, a wise person would go straight to sleep as soon as they got home. Veronica, however, thought it would be a swell idea to go straight into the kitchen, make some coffee, get her notes out and turn her study lamp on. She had told herself that she would catch up on the study hours she had lost while at Mara’s, then go right to sleep.

She didn’t anticipate the amount of times she’d toss and turn when she actually lay down on the bed.

Granted, Wednesday was kind to her. First period was a free, so her being a little late wasn’t too damaging. All she lost was a few precious minutes of studying.

But honestly? It felt as if she had wasted the past hour or so just staring at her notes without actually taking anything in. It felt as if all the words were merging together in one messy pulp.

Or maybe that was her headache speaking.

For almost sixty minutes she had sat in study hall in complete silence, trying to make sense of the scribbles on the many pages in front of her. So when the bell suddenly rang to signal the end of first period, it felt like glass shards shredded through the air and stabbed her ears. She let out a groan, pressing her forehead against the bottom of her palms, before slamming her folders shut and shoving them into her bag.

Just as she was zipping it up, she felt something unexpectedly attach itself to her shoulders, and she jolted up from her seat with a sharp gasp. She whipped her head around, and saw that Heather Duke was standing just behind her chair. She felt herself relax, but also felt a wave of embarrassment hit her.

“Alright, jumpy,” Heather snarked. Veronica huffed.

“I didn’t expect to see you there,” she muttered.

“I can tell,” she said, rolling her eyes. Veronica sighed as she flung her bag strap over her shoulder.

“What do you need, Heather?” she asked with a flat tone.

“Do you just assume that if I come and find you alone, I need something from you?”

“Yes,” she replied dryly, beginning to stalk past her towards the exit to study hall. “Last time you did this, you lured me into a double date with the school’s two biggest dickheads with the world’s smallest dicks.”

“Oh come on! That was well over a month ago,” Duke protested, cantering alongside her as they left study hall behind, entering the now-crowded hallways. “Also, you got a whole pizza out of it.”

“I mean, yes, but I got a head injury too.”

“So negative,” she chided. Veronica arched a brow.

“Says the most pessimistic person in this friendship group.”  _ Can you call it that? I’m calling it that until I have a better name. _

“That would be Heather, actually,” she corrected. “Sometimes I wonder if she lost all ability to feel warm fuzzy emotions.”

Veronica let out a contemplative hum as her mind drifted back to the sound of Heather’s warm giggle. A rare, yet wonderful sound.

“Not all of it,” she mused.

“It was an exaggeration,” Duke said, reminding Veronica to snap out of her daydream. “Though, you are actually right. I do need something from you.”

Dread filled Veronica immediately.

“This isn’t another  _ favour _ , is it?” she whined. “I am really not in the mood for any more dates-”

“What? No!” Duke shot her an odd look. “I’ve been on a break from guys ever since then anyway!” Her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I just need the math notes I missed on Thursday.”

Veronica blinked at her, before nodding.

“Right.” She snapped her fingers and pointed forward. “Locker, then.”

“Thanks,” she grunted, though her voice was drowned out by the chatter of students weaving around them.

Soon enough they arrived at her locker, and Veronica swung the door open carelessly to begin rummaging through the numerous textbooks and folders inside.

“So,” Duke then said from next to her. “How are you holding up with the whole Heather and Heather thing?”

The mention of it alone was enough to make Veronica stumble with her math folder, coming close to dropping it.

“Hmm, Heather and Heather thing?” she stammered.”Don’t know what you mean, I had nothing to do with it.”

Heather eyed her curiously.

“I never said you did,” she said. “I was just asking how you were dealing.”

Veronica propped up her folder in her locker and quickly flipped through, looking for her notes.

“Just fine,” she mumbled. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not something worth losing sleep over.” She found the notes and dropped them into Heather’s hands. 

“Thanks,” she said, shoving them into her own bag. “I’ll give you them back whenever.”

“That’s fine,” she grunted, slamming her locker shut.

“Though, speaking of Heather,” Heather then said. “Have you seen her about?”

Veronica leaned back against her locker, resisting the urge to slide down onto the floor.

“No.”

“Fuck,” Duke muttered, eyes scanning the crowd. “I need to find her.”

Veronica shrugged. “She is in, I can tell you that.”

Duke gave her an odd look. “And you haven’t seen her.”

“No, no, she told me.”

“When?”

“Last night,” Veronica said, followed by a yawn. “I visited her,” she mumbled through her yawn, “to check if she was okay.”

“Oh.” Duke sounded a little surprised. “Was she?”

She shrugged. “Tired and in a bad mood, but she was fine, I guess.” She looked down at her. “Why?”

Duke’s mouth twitched. “Just surprised she’d let you in if she…” She paused. “Unless she told you already?”

Veronica tilted her head. “Told me what?”

“Uh…” Duke winced. “Okay, um, what about yesterday did she tell you?” she asked. “As in, what happened yesterday.”

Veronica deadpanned at her.

“She and Heather… had an argument,” she replied slowly.

“That’s it?”

Veronica’s brows knitted together as she grew more and more puzzled.

“Is there anything else to know?”

Duke gritted her teeth, and Veronica caught her quiet hiss, “Okay, so she hasn’t told you,” which only fed her curiosity.

“Heather?”

“No, nothing else to know,” Heather then said loudly. “Thanks for the notes, I’ll return them whenever.”

With that, she spun around and marched off, quick to sink into the crowd, out of Veronica’s sight. Veronica stared after her, mouthing a muted, “What…” as she tried to think of what Heather could have been referring to. But as she considered her options, she just couldn’t think of anything that sounded as if she were hinting towards it.

But even if she were to find an answer, she wouldn’t be able to find it now. Not when her thoughts were being interrupted by-

“Coast clear!”

Veronica turned her head to her left, and saw Betty jumping out from the crowd and landing by her side, with Martha sheepishly following her.

“Clear of what?” Veronica asked.

“Her who shall not be named,” Betty replied with a hushed voice tilting her head towards the direction that Duke had disappeared to. Veronica arched her brow.

“Heather?”

“What did I  _ just _ say?”

Veronica pulled her tongue at her cheekily, while Betty lightly punched her on the arm.

“You are commuting with the devil,” Betty told her.

“That’s a little harsh,” Martha said. Betty let out a thoughtful hum.

“Demon?"

Veronica snorted. “That’s usually Chandler’s title.”

Betty shrugged. “I don’t have personal vendetta with Red Heather,” she said.

Martha grinned. “You also think she’s pretty, and you’re a useless lesbian.”

While the whole sentence was hushed so that no one would overhear, both of them heard it, and Veronica let out a chortle, while Betty squawked indignantly.

“So does  _ everyone _ ,” she snapped. “It’s like a default mode to find her attractive.”

Veronica held back a laugh. “God, I know the feeling.”

“I know  _ you _ do,” she teased, and Veronica hid her cheeks behind her sleeves. “And don’t worry, I won’t be stealing her from you.” She gave a dismissive gesture. “She may be hot, but she’s not my type.”

Veronica arched her brow. “What  _ is _ your type?”

Betty paused for a moment to lean back against the lockers and cross her arms.

“Much sweeter girls,” she said in a low voice, before turning to Veronica. “Unlike someone.”

“I-” Veronica began, before her mouth closed again and the hand she raised in her defense dropped. “Yeah.”

“ _ Ha _ ,” she huffed in victory. “But, moving on from hopeless crush number one,” she then said. “Is Friday okay for you for a movie night?”

The thought of an  _ escape _ from everything that had happened, and was still currently happening, for that matter, was enough for Veronica to let out a loud sigh of relief.

“Yes, yes it is,” she breathed.

“Definitely no plans with Heather or Heather or Bitch?”

“If there are any, I don’t know about it,” she said. “So I guess I don’t have any with them at all.”

“Neat!” Betty gave her a thumbs up and a cheerful grin. “Would you rather my dad pick you up or to hitch a ride with JD?”

“I’ll ask JD,” she replied. “So long as he has a  _ fucking _ helmet.”

“Yeah, Heather might chew him up if he didn’t,” Betty snickered, giving a sly smirk to Martha, who giggled along with her. Veronica pouted at them both, before their conversation was cut short by the sound of the bell.

“Fuck, what do I have next?” Veronica wondered out, trying to think through her daily routines that she usually would remember off the top of her head.

“Politics, remember?” Betty said, laughing. “Somebody didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Veronica’s arms slumped to her sides. “I guess not,” she said wistfully. “We better go then.” She turned to Betty.

“Aight,” she replied. “See you later, Martha!” she then said sweetly, stealing a quick embrace from the shorter girl. Martha smiled at her.

“See you both!” she responded with a gleeful tone, giving a sheepish wave as she and Betty parted.

“Bye, Martha,” Veronica added as she watched her begin to scurry down the corridor, one still full of students rushing to go to their classes, and silently prayed that no one would shove her as she made her way down - a habit that she had never learned to break out of.

Once Martha was out of sight, she turned back to Betty, expecting her to take initiative and lead the way to their politics class, however she instead saw that she was staring after where Martha had disappeared, seemingly lost in a daydream of some sort. Veronica leaned to the side a little, trying to catch her eye.

“Hey, BFF, did you hear me?” She waved her hand in front of her, which seemed to catch her attention.

“Hmm?” she snapped her head back towards her, fluttering her lashes.

“We going?” she asked her.

“Oh. Yeah.” Betty curtly nodded, and scampered in front of Veronica, who followed on close behind, trying to ignore how odd that little interaction had seemed to her. She’d never considered Betty to be a daydreamer, not like Heather Chandler or Heather McNamara.

It was probably nothing, she eventually decided. Perhaps Betty didn’t get much sleep either.

 

* * *

“Ah, look who it is.”

Seeing McNamara in the bathroom unexpectedly must have startled Duke, since her chest clenched a little at the sight of the blonde. McNamara cocked her head away from the mirror and locked eyes with her, clearly looking startled herself with wide, hazel eyes.

“Hi,” she said flatly, before looking back at the mirror and bringing a hand holding lip gloss to her pink lips.

As Duke stalked over to her side, she tried to think of what would be the best sentence starter.

“So…” she began, before hesitating. She caught the gaze of McNamara’s reflection, and quickly thought up of the next thing to say. “How are you feeling today?”

McNamara remained quiet for a moment.

“Fine,” she mumbled as she stroked the lip gloss brush over her bottom lip, leaving behind a pretty glisten. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Duke bit her lip in hearing what could have been a passive aggressive reply.

“Just because you weren’t in yesterday, so…”

McNamara rubbed her lips together, before screwing the lid of the lip gloss back onto the little tub.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she murmured. Duke eyed her reflection suspiciously, and she spotted her hazel eyes darting left and right guiltily.

“Heather told me you had a-” she stopped herself to look around the bathroom, checking that all the stalls were empty, that there were no ears to eavesdrop, before turning back towards the mirror. “-Shutdown,” she finished in a hushed voice.

McNamara froze when the word left her mouth, and Duke’s heart tightened as she panicked that she had said something wrong.

“ _ Heather _ told you that?” she spat, the bitterness in her tone so thick that Duke could almost taste it.

“Yeah, she did,” she replied, watching McNamara’s reflection turning towards her own. She tore her gaze away from the mirror and let her eyes land on hers. “Why?”

McNamara curled her lip, her hands clenched into fists on the counter.

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” she hissed. Duke tensed up a little.

“Is something wrong?” Probably a dumb question, but she was too taken aback to McNamara being angry to put two and two together.

“You’re telling me she  _ knew _ about my shutdown?” she barked. “And she just fucking  _ walked _ out on me?”

Duke shrank into her shoulders.

“Uh… I don’t know-”

“Doesn’t she realise how humiliating it was?” she growled, dragging her fingers through her hair. “My dad found me on the floor of the hallway just rocking back and forth!” Her hand fell to her side, her hand colliding with her hip. “And she just up and  _ left _ me?”

Duke shrugged gingerly.

“ _ God! _ ” she exclaimed, hopping onto the counter and crossing her arms, taking no notice of how she shoved her bag out the way and over the edge. Duke kicked it upright with her foot, then looked back up at Heather, who was swaying back and forth a little.

“I… I know she’s a cunt, but-”

“ _ But? _ ” she cut in, glaring at her. “Since when are you defending her?”

Duke let out a sigh. “Let me finish?”

McNamara shut her mouth and let her shoulders slump.

“I’m saying, it would be out of character for her to do that,” she said calmly. “So I’ll ask her whether or not she knew.”

McNamara nodded slowly, her feet swinging back at forth, heels drumming against the counter.

“And if she did just leave, I’ll make sure she gets a good telling off,” she assured. McNamara let out a huff that sounded as if it were mimicking a laugh.

“Thanks but I’ll probably do that part myself.”

Duke widened her eyes a little.

“So, whatever happened between you must have been pretty bad,” she said, leaning against the counter, “if you’re willing to go and yell at Heather  _ yourself _ .”

McNamara looked down at her hands as they began to fidget with the hem of her skirt, while the back and forth swaying stopped.

“It wasn’t-” she paused. “No, no, it was really bad.”

“No shit,” Duke grunted as she lifted herself onto the space next to McNamara. “You had a shutdown, Heather. Of course it was rough.”

“Yeah…” McNamara grimaced, tooth digging into her bottom lip. And as much as comforting a sad Heather McNamara was much more of a Heather thing to do, she couldn’t help but feel the need to wrap her arms around her into a warm, reassuring hug. Especially since there was no other Heather to do it.

Veronica did not count. She was not a Heather.

“I will give you-” she glanced at her swatch “-exactly two minutes maximum of comfort.” She then held out her arms, and as if she had flicked a switch, McNamara fell into her hold. Perhaps she bumped into her chest to hard, since for a moment, Duke forgot to breathe when the warmth of her hit her.

“Thanks, Heather,” she heard her mumble against her shoulder.

“ _ Two minutes _ ,” she repeated. McNamara offered an “okay” signal, before letting her hand flop onto Duke’s thigh, the unexpected action making her flinch.

After a few seconds of silence, Duke cleared her throat.

“So…” She glanced down at the blonde resting on her shoulder. “Heather told me jackshit about what actually happened between you two.” She batted her lashes at her when she peered upwards. “I don’t suppose sweet, innocent, wronged Emmy could tell me instead?”

McNamara glanced at her own yellow swatch, then back up at Heather.

“No.”

Duke’s smile dropped.

“At least, I can’t tell you the  _ first _ thing,” she then said, Duke’s smile lit up again, and leaned back as McNamara lifted her head up.

“Just…” She clenched her fists and inhaled deeply, and Duke prepared herself for an upcoming rant.  “It just turned into a whole argument about how she is just  _ so _ closed off!” she barked. “And I could go on, and on, and  _ on _ about how much of a cold bitch she’s become, but you already know that.”

Duke let out a single haughty laugh.

“ _ Do _ I?” she gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “I never noticed.”

McNamara squinted at her for a moment, before sighing.

“Sometimes I wonder how I have managed to remain friends with someone as sarcastic as you for the past six years,” she said with a simper. Duke just gave an amused snort.

“Me too,” she said, before pausing for a moment as her mind flashed back to an interaction she had shared earlier that day, one that had surprised her. “Um, speaking of which, though.”

McNamara cocked her head up with intrigue.

“Have you not told Veronica about…” She gritted her teeth and curled her lip, gesturing her hand forward in hopes that she would catch onto what she was trying to say. But by the way her hazel eyes flickered from side to side with uncertainty, it was clear she wasn’t going to pick up on what she was hinting at.

“She told me she visited you yesterday,” she added, “but she didn’t seem aware that you had a shutdown?”

And as the words left her tongue, she froze.

“Mhmm?” she squeaked. “So?”

“ _ So _ , I was wondering why you haven’t told her.”

McNamara frowned at her, her gaze darkening.

“Because she doesn’t know I’m autistic?”

“I- yes, I got that part, Emmy,” Duke grumbled, pinching the bridge of of nose. “I  _ mean _ , why doesn’t she know  _ that _ part?”

She raised her finger and opened her mouth, looking prepared to return with a snappy comeback, however no words left her mouth, and she remained staring at her with a hanging jaw.

“Well-” she stammered. “Look, I’ll just tell her I’m autistic when I’m ready to-”

Her voice suddenly got drowned out by the sound of the door swinging open, the rusty hinges squeaking loudly as to announce a new presence. McNamara’s mouth slammed shut and Duke whipped her head around, ready to bark at whatever lower student was interrupting them to  _ fuck off _ , but in locking eyes with a familiar blue, icy gaze, she refrained from doing so.

“Ready to  _ what _ ?” Heather Chandler sneered. “What, don’t you  _ trust _ her?”

Her lip was curling into a smug-looking smirk, one that Duke would usually pay no mind. But when that smirk was directed at  _ Heather McNamara _ , it suddenly became unnerving, causing her stomach to churn slightly.

Unsure what she could possibly say in this situation, she sheepishly turned her head back to McNamara, expecting some form of submission, but instead, she was met with her staring back at her, managing to maintain eye contact with the Demon Queen before her. Duke bit her lip in anticipation, but raised her brows in intrigue.

As McNamara slipped her foot under her bag handle and lifted it off the floor, hand snatching it from around her ankle, she remained quiet. Duke frowned as she watched her slide off the counter, the thick, tense silence being broken by the sound of her black heels clacking against the hard floor, as she realised that she was exiting the room. She felt a little empty as she stared after her, watching her saunter towards the door.

But then, just before she passed Chandler,

“You are not one to speak.”

With that, her pace sped up, and her arm collided with Chandler’s essentially shoving her out the way, by how Chandler had to stumble forward to maintain her footing. The interaction was enough to trigger ripples of giggles begin to threaten to escape Duke’s mouth, and would have done so had she not blocked it with her palm and turned away. Apparently Chandler noticed, since she could hear her her footsteps moving closer to her, her feet angrily stomping across the floor. She peered at her, covering her grin with the hand.

“Don’t laugh at me!” she snapped. “It’s not funny!”

Duke finally gained control over her smile and let her hand drop, revealing a serious stare.

“Laugh? At you?” She scoffed indignantly. “Never.”

Chandler rolled her eyes and snarled.

“Oh, no, you  _ never _ would.”

Duke smiled innocently at her, only for it to be dismissed with a disdainful huff.

“I mean, to be fair,” Duke then said. “She kinda has a poi-”

“Do  _ not _ say she has a point!” Chandler hissed. Duke arched her brow at her.

“No, I will say that,” she replied calmly. “You’ve never managed to stop me before.”

Chandler sneered. “Yeah. That’s what I always hated.”

“Tough.”

Duke had to bit her tongue to hold back her laughter upon seeing the disgruntled pout that Chandler gave. Letting out a sigh, she spoke up again,

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me to ask her how she was doing,” she pointed out. “So that’s what I did.”

Chandler, who has her arms folded tightly over her chest and her shoulders tensed up only gave her a brief glance.

“And?” she mumbled. “What did she say?”

Duke leaned back on the counter, crossing one leg over the other.

“She said that she felt fine today,” she replied nonchalantly. She was positive that she saw Chandler’s tensed up shoulders relax in response, and was almost convinced to not add the next part of her sentence. “But she’s pissed that you just ditched her while she was having a shutdown.” She turned her attention away from her, as to not witness whatever her overly-dramatic reaction would be, and instead focused on examining her nails. Only, that turned out to be a less than smart idea, as seeing her shortened, filed-down nails only acted as a cruel reminder of her current mental state.

“I’m  _ sorry _ ?” she heard Chandler squawk. Deciding that watching Chandler would much more entertaining than staring at the calluses on her knuckles, she dropped her hand and looked back up at her.

“Don’t yell at me. That’s what she told me.”

Chandler’s lip curled into a snarl. “Well that’s just a  _ lie _ ,” she spat bitterly. “I would do no such thing!”

“Well, she’s pretty convinced that you did,” Duke said. Chandler rolled her eyes and let out a scoff.

“I didn’t notice any signs of a shutdown,” she said. “Kinda hard to notice such a thing when she’s busy yelling at me.”

Duke’s eyebrow raised her her interest piqued.

“Okay, I know she said some things to you,” she said, “but I do find it difficult to imagine her yelling at you.”

Chandler sauntered over to the counter and let her hip rest on the edge. “You and me both,” she replied. “Only, I actually experienced it, so now that’s  _ all _ I can imagine.”

“Is she that intimidating?” Duke asked doubtfully.

“No, she just said some things I really didn’t enjoy hearing.”

“You don’t enjoy hearing a lot of things we say to you, Heather.”

Chandler fell silent, her finger tapping her arm in an anxious manner. Duke considered continuing, but figured that she had already railed on her hard enough.

“If it makes you feel better, she wasn’t alone yesterday,” she said. Chandler cocked her head back towards her. “Veronica went to visit her, apparently. She was fine.”

Chandler continued to stare at her blankly.

“Did she,” she eventually replied dryly. “How  _ nice _ of her.”

The insincerity in her voice couldn’t be more clear.

“You don’t sound all that pleased.”

Chandler let out a snort, blue eyes rolling. “Tch. Right now, I don’t give a shit about Ma-” she bit down on her lip, cutting herself off. “I don’t give a shit about Heather.”

The conscious refusal to even say the long-lasting nickname unsettled Duke, causing her to squirm uncomfortably.

“Right,” she responded, though she wasn’t convinced, had Chandler’s request to check on Emmy for her been any indication that her pride was making her lie through her teeth. Narrowing her gaze, she decided to confirm that suspicion.

“Does that mean I can use ‘Mac’, then?”

Chandler snapped her head towards her with a wide-eyed, infuriated glare, one that was almost laughable.

“No!” she barked. “Just because something isn’t in use doesn’t mean you can just take it!”

Duke couldn’t hold back a snicker from escaping her. Chandler just let out a disgruntled groan and lightly punched her on the arm.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I think that’s one of the core requirements of being a Heather.”

“Mac isn’t an assho-  _ GODDAMMIT! _ ” she suddenly exclaimed in noticing the slip-up. Duke didn’t bother holding in her laughter.

“ _ Not in use, _ huh?” she jeered. Chandler just huffed at her.

“Bitch,” she grunted. “Maybe I  _ won’t _ host your birthday party next week.”

Duke arched a brow at her.

“I know you, and I know that you will do that no matter what.”

“Oh? And why would that be?”

Duke chuckled. “Because it’s an opportunity for people to bring free bottles of alcohol to your house and just leave them there, so you can horde them all afterwards.”

Chandler stared back at her blankly, biting down on her lip.

“I-” She raised a finger to defend herself, but it immediately dropped. “Yeah…”

Duke gave her a cheery grin, batting her lashes and gazing up at her innocently. Chandler attempted to stare back at her, unamused, but the corners of her mouth were clearly threatening to curl into a smile.

“You’re still not using ‘Mac’, though,” she then grumbled, before bouncing off the counter and beginning to make her way back towards the exit. Duke just rolled her eyes as she slipped back onto the floor and sprinting forward to catch up to her, finding a place at her side.

“I don’t really need it,” she told her. “I’m pretty set for nicknames already.”

 

* * *

“Have your name for me changed?”

Mac’s head lifted up from the yellow bead that she spun around on the swirly red wire with a finger.

_ “What?” _ she signed.

“Before you u-th-ed a diffewent thign for my name,” Chandler said. “What did it mean?”

Mac then crawled around the table of beads and wires to sit next next to her. She then repeated the gesture - a light stroke from her bottom lip to her chin with her finger - and formed a ‘H’ with her hand. She then picked up some of Chandler’s red locks.

“Hm?”

Mac dropped her hair, then shifted around back to the table, where she tapped the red wire. She then turned to her, and with her other hand, spelled “R E D”.

Chandler then mimicked the action and brushed her finger over her chin. “Wed?”

Mac smiled and nodded. Chandler tilted her head.

“Why wed?” she asked. “Why not Heather?”

Mac didn’t reply, and by how she looked a little thoughtful, Chandler guessed she wasn’t sure how to reply. She let out a hum as she tried to think of what the answer would be.

“Ith it… like a nickname? Like ‘Mac’?”

Mac’s grin picked up, and she nodded. Chandler giggled sweetly at the idea of being given a nickname, something to let her stand out a little in Mac’s eye. A sign that she was special to her.

And then, as she brushed some of her hair out of her face, a realisation hit her.

“Ith that becau-th of my hair?” she asked, giving her a suspicious look. Mac blinked at her, then nodded. Chandler couldn’t hold back a wince as her hands clasped onto her hair, covering up the colour that had always stood out in a crowd. Mac didn’t seem to pick up on her face flushing with her self consciousness, as she let out a quiet, raspy giggle. She then lifted her hands, and signed what Chandler could make out to be,

_ “It’s pretty!” _

Chandler felt her grip on her hair loosen, letting the ginger strands free as a smile slithered onto her lips.

“If you thay tho,” she said gingerly.

Mac gave another nod, before turning back toward the beads and sliding them up, down and across the multi coloured paths. Chandler watched her spin them around while rocking back and forth and side to side on the floor, trying to find some enjoyment in having to sit patiently as they waited for Mac’s name to be called out.

“How long do you think they’ll be?” she then asked her as she stared at the clock, though it didn’t really tell her anything.

Mac glanced at her, before shrugging. Chandler let out a long, restless sigh and let herself fall back onto the floor and look up at the ceiling above, her eyes maneuvering through the lines that formed the clusters of squares. She hardly noticed herself kick her feet up and down, had it not been for the clacking sound of the back of her shoes hitting the hard floor, which was oddly nice to slide her arms and legs over.

“You okay there, Heather?”

Chandler lifted her head up to glance at Mac’s father, who was comfortably sitting on one of the waiting chairs with a news paper in his hands. Last time she had checked, he was deep in a conversation with Mac’s mother, who was now sitting silently next to him. She then glanced over to Mac, who was staring and her father and repeatedly signing,  _ “Red!” _ to him. He gave a laugh,

“Oh, sorry,  _ Red _ Heather.”

“Yeah!” she replied cheerfully, before flopping her head back onto the floor. She underestimated how much distance there was between her and the surface, however, since the impact actually hurt. “Ow,” she added, but didn’t stop staring at the ceiling.

“Did you hit your head?” she heard him ask.

“Yeah,” she replied. She heard a light chuckle.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” she replied again.

“Good, good.”

She continued to slide her limbs across the smooth floor, though in the quietness of the waiting room they sat in, she was able to pick up a harsh whisper from Mac’s mother.

“ _ Is _ she okay though?”

Her movements stopped, and while she remained lying down, she tuned in her attention.

“She seems fine to me,” Mac’s father argued.

“Did her parents not teach that child to sit still?” her mother grumbled. “We’ve only been sitting here for five minutes. What’s she going to be like when she has to wait out here for half an hour?”

“I’ll keep her entertained.”

“Tch,” she scoffed, before silence fell upon them again. Chandler frowned to herself.

_ Is there something wrong-? _

“Is there a Heather Elle McNamara?”

The sound of her friend’s name made her shoot back up into a sitting position, and she turned around to see a doctor looking in there direction.

“Yes,” Mac’s mother answered, quickly standing up. “Heather. Come on.” She held out her hand towards Mac, who slowly stood up and hesitantly place her tiny hand into hers. As soon as it touched her palm, her mother practically snatched it and led her towards the doctor waiting at the entrance to a hallway. As she was dragged off, Mac caught Chandler’s eye and gave a small smile, giving her a little wave. Chandler sadly watched her go, feeling the mood around her drop. Once she had disappeared around the corner, she looked longingly around the waiting room, when something caught her eye. She gasped.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed as she crawled around the table, back to where Mac had been sitting before.

“Are you okay, Heather?” her father asked.

“Mac left her toy,” she said, picking up the fluffy yellow teddy that had been abandoned on the floor. She frowned and dusted off any dirt that may had attached itself to the curly fur.

“Oh no,” he responded. “I’m sure she trusts you to keep her safe.”

Being trusted with an important responsibility made her light up with pride.

“I’ll protect her!” she declared, cuddling her tightly.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Heather beamed, and tightened her grip on the teddy - Sunshine, her name was.

“Are you excited to watch Bambi later?” Mac’s father then asked. She scooted herself around on the floor to face him and nodded.

“Yeah!”

“It was my favourite movie as a boy,” he said with a warm smile. “Heather’s been very excited to watch it with you.”

Chandler gave an enthusiastic squeal.

“I’m ec-thited too!” she exclaimed.

“Well, we’ll be home soon,” he assured her. “Sorry you had to come with us. We just felt it would be more convenient to bring you here rather than drive back to your house for you.”

“That okay!” she said. “Hanging with Mac ith fun!”

“That’s very nice of you to say,” he said with a faint smile. “And hopefully we can go get ice cream later to make up for this long wait.”

“Ithe cweam!” she squealed. She did love the little store that sold ice cream down the street - it was always a special treat. Though, she’d be lying if it didn’t make the idea of waiting half an hour much more unappealing. With Mac, it was fine. But now she was by herself, left to her own devices.

It didn’t help that time seemed to slow when you were bored.

After a few moments of quietness passed, with the exception of the occasional customer checking in at reception, Chandler was already growing urges to run around. And a few minutes later, she was close to fall into that temptation. She reminded herself of her mother’s words, however,

_ “Girls do not run around like reckless little boys. They behave and don’t cause a fuss.” _

She let out a groan and remained seated on the floor, though she shifted her position so her legs were splayed out the side rather than crossed. She rocked Sunshine back and forth in her hands, while her legs would sway randomly across the floor. Before she knew it, she was spinning around, feet pushing her in a clockwise direction.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time she had resorted to playing with the beads, twirling them around and letting them drop to the end of the wire. She was doing that for a while - far too long, actually - when she finally heard a door squeak from down the corridor. Some footsteps ensued, and when she looked towards the corridor, Mac and her mother walked through the already open double doors. She immediately grew excited at the sight of her friend again, though in catching the darkened expression of her mother, and the sheepish walk of Mac, something told her to stay seated for just a little longer.

She waited until the two of them were closer to the seats, and she took that opportunity to stand up and dart over to Mac.

“You fowgot to bwing Thun-thine!” she said, holding out the teddy towards her. Mac hesitantly took hold of her, then latched her arms around her tightly. Chandler couldn’t help but pick up on some odd vibes from her. She wasn’t smiling, nor was she looking at her directly. She just shifted her feet beneath her uncomfortably.

“Awe you okay?” she asked, lowering her voice a little. Mac finally looked up at her, and looked as if she were going to sign something in reply, but instead she turned her head slightly towards her parents. Chandler shifted a little closer to her and followed her gaze, and realised they were talking, so she tuned in to listen.

“What did they say?” her father asked.

Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a harsh sigh.

“I can’t  _ fucking _ believe this,” she hissed, keeping her voice quiet. Chandler assumed it was an attempt to hide what she was saying from them both, but it was obviously not working.

“Take a breather-” her father attempted to comfort her, placing a hand on her shoulder, only for it to be slapped away.

“She’s  _ fucking _ autistic! I will  _ not _ take a breather!”

Chandler’s brow furrowed in confusion.

_ Autistic? _ she thought.  _ What’s that? _

“Hey, they had already told us about that possibility-”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”

Her father paused.

“There isn’t anything wrong with her-”

“Did you not fucking hear what I just said?” she snarled, leering at him. He nodded silently. “She’s got autism. And we have to fucking deal with that.”

“Well…” He scratched at his chin. “We might have to help her with a few things in school and her social life, but I’m sure with some practice we’ll be fi-”

“Stop trying to make it sound so  _ easy _ ,” she hissed, her lip curling. “When I said I wanted a child, I meant that I wanted a  _ daughter _ , not a retard.”

Next to her, she felt Mac flinch against her shoulder. Chandler wasn’t entirely sure what those words meant, but by how Mac seemed to dig her nails into Sunshine and hide half of her face behind her, she could guess it was nothing good. She was unsure what to say, especially when she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.

“Awe you okay?” she asked again. Mac’s eyes became solemn as she nodded. Somehow, Chandler could pick up the sense that she was lying.

At a loss for words, Chandler just gave her a sympathetic gaze, and managed to slip her hand around Mac’s tiny arm in hopes that it would do something. At first, Mac seemed hesitant, but she then made the gap between her arm and side wider to allow Chandler to link her arm around hers. She shuffled a little closer, and Chandler offered a welcoming smile to her. Mac managed to smile back.

Chandler had not realised she had zoned out out of her parents’ conversation until they both turned to look up at Mac’s father, who was giving them both a tired look.

“Hey, I’m sorry girls, but…” He glanced elsewhere, towards Mac’s mother who was rummaging through her purse. “Your mother’s a little upset right now,” he said, sheepishly looking at Mac. “So I don’t think we’ll be getting ice cream.”

Disappointment flooded through Chandler, and she couldn’t hold back the “Aw…” that left her mouth.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said to them regretfully. “But maybe later, when she’s not looking, I can make you both waffles. How about that?”

That idea was enough to make Chandler grin and give a little enthusiastic hop. Mac gave a nod.

“All sorted then.” He gave Mac a gentle pat on the head, before turning back towards Mac’s mother.

“Come on. Let’s go,” her mother then sneered, not even glancing at her daughter as she hooked her handbag back over her shoulder and began to make her way towards the exit, her heels slapping against the floor and causing a splitting sound with each footstep. Both Mac and Chandler sheepishly followed behind Mac’s father, both wanting to avoid any angered glares she might give either of them.

“It-th okay,” she whispered to Mac as they exited the building. Mac gazed up at her with glistening hazel eyes. “I don’t think there-th anything wong with you.”

She got a faint smile in reply, and Chandler smiled back.

“In fact, I think you’re the mo-th-t beth-tetht perthon I know.”

 

* * *

After pressing the doorbell button for the third time, Veronica let out a long, drained sigh as she fell against the porch wall next to her. The winter darkness had already settled in about an hour ago, and it was currently acting as a tempting bait for her to just turn around, walk back to her house and flop onto her mattress, but for the sake of Mara, and even Chandler, to some extent, she stayed put.

Though, after time passed, her lids were beginning to grow heavy. It was only when the door suddenly clicked did her eyes shoot open, and her whole body jolted in surprise.

“Wrong house, Sawyer.” Chandler’s voice slithered through the tiniest crack made in the door. “Shouldn’t you be comforting your  _ much more preferred _ Heather?”

Each word felt like a needle stabbing her in the chest.

“No, I’m at the right house, I’m sure,” Veronica replied. She heard an exasperated groan, before the door opened a little wider. Through the enlarged gap, Chandler poked her head outside purely to glare at her.

“Shocking,” she said dryly. “What the fuck do you want?”

Veronica frowned.

“I need to talk to you,” she began. “As I said on Tuesday, but I got a little distracted.”

“I noticed,” she replied, finally opening the door all the way. Veronica wasn’t sure what she wa expecting, but regardless, she was surprised when she saw that Heather was only covered with her red robe, and beneath, what looked like a burgundy bra. “It was amusing seeing you yell at your nice friends for once.” Her lip curled into an impish smile. Veronica gave a dismissive huff.

“ _ Was it _ ,” she replied with faux intrigue. “Well, unfortunately for you, arguments with my little loser crew are over. Back to the bitches.” She pointed towards Heather, who placed her hand on her chest and let her hip rest on the door frame.

“You stand here and call your friends  _ losers _ ?” she fake-cried. “The humanity!”

“Call it reclaiming,” Veronica said. “We’re fully aware of our status.”

“Wouldn’t know a thing about reclaiming,” Chandler replied with a shrug. Veronica scoffed.

“Because you have no derogatory terms thrown your way to reclaim,” she retorted. “Unless you count ‘bitch’, that is.”

“I would count that,” she said. “But we both digress. What do you want, bitch?”

Veronica held back the urge to let out a huff of laughter.

“I just said, to talk to you.”

“I’m all ears.” Heather gestured her to speak, and Veronica sighed.

“You’re just gonna… make me stand out here, huh.”

“Depends.” She leaned her head against the door frame. “How long will you be speaking for?”

“Don’t know. A while?”

Heather let out a groan.

“Okay  _ fine _ ,” she moaned. “I don’t exactly want to stand out here in the cold.” She then moved out of the way of the entrance, allowing Veronica to step inside.

“Me neither,” Veronica muttered as she moved past Heather, slipping her shoes off and leaving them under the coat hangers. “Where we going for this?” she then asked.

Heather pointed upwards. “Bedroom.”

When Veronica’s heart skipped a little in hearing that word, she grew a little suspicious.

“How come?” she questioned as she followed her towards and up the stairs, shoulders coming close to brushing.

“It’s the only room I’m ever in,” she replied dryly.

Veronica frowned at the statement that she couldn’t help but view as out of character for Heather, but brushed it off as she was led into the bedroom.

“So,  _ loser _ , what do you need?” Heather asked, leaving Veronica to her own devices as she went to flop onto the white couch, slouching back into the soft cushions and hooking her finger around what looked like a half-empty mug of coffee. Next to it lay a book - The Bell Jar - open and flat on its pages. The sight of it distracted Veronica from her proper motive as she sauntered over to her.

“You’ve been reading The Jell Bar?”

Heather paused to stare at her. Veronica also paused to look at her in confusion.

Then Heather placed her mug back on the table so that she could allow her hand to be free to cover her mouth as she let out a snort.

“What?” she asked as Heather continued to snicker and giggle.

“Yes, it’s my favourite book,” Heather replied, holding back her laughter. “The Jell Bar. Such a good read, if I do say so myself.”

The realisation finally slapped Veronica in the face, and she buried it in her hands and let out an embarrassed groan, while listening to the sound of Heather’s laughter. She would have complained, but she’d be lying to herself if she said that she didn’t adore that rare, yet beautiful sound, and that listening to it was like hearing the song of a bird that one would be lucky to spot.

“I am  _ tired _ , okay?” Veronica grumbled as she lowered her hands from her face. Heather snorted in amusement.

“ _ Are _ you?” she gasped. “I never would have guessed!”

“Very funny,” Veronica muttered.

“That was,” Heather said with a nod, before her eyes fell to Veronica’s hands. “Also, why does it look like a child tried to colour in your hands?”

She picked up a hand to glance at the red ink, which was still legible enough to read,  _ TALK TO HEATHER _ , though having survived a day of scrubbing her hands with soap and subconsciously rubbing them, much of the red ink had spread, making it look as if she had just returned from a crime scene, and she was the killer.

“Because silly me forgot my diary today, so I had to write some reminders on my hand instead.”

“Oh, that’s writing?” Heather tilted her head, looking doubtful. “I don’t see it, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Veronica walked around the glass table to stand closer to Heather, and held out her hand to her.

“It’s still readable,” she said. Heather squinted at the scribbles.

“Still don’t see it,” she replied, before shifting along the couch. “Now sit,” she commanded, patting the space next to her. Veronica did so.

Heather eyed her through her long lashes over the rim of the mug she was tilting towards her mouth.

“So, you going to lecture me or what?” she questioned as she sipped her coffee.

“Not so much a lecture,” Veronica said, shifting her body around to face her. “More just me trying to convince you to not be mad at Mara.”

Heather paused, not taking her eyes off of her as she slowly placed the mug back down.

“And why would you want to do that?” she asked, crossing her arms and legs and leaning back against the couch, her judging gaze stealing Veronica’s words right from her mouth.

“Because, well-” she stuttered. “You’re both friends? And you’re fighting?” She leaned forward a little. “And I’m both your… friends…” She silently questioned if that was the correct noun to use. “So here I am, trying to help.”

Heather raised a brow at her, tilting her chin upwards, before unfolding her legs and leaning forward as well.

“Friends?” she echoed. “Is that what you’re calling us both?”

_ My question exactly, _ Veronica thought to herself.

“Is there any other word you’d prefer me to use?” she asked instead as Heather went to take another sip of her coffee. “Acquaintance? Pal? Chum? Girlfriend?”

She bit back the urge to laugh when brown liquid squirted out Heather’s mouth as she choked on her drink as soon as that final word left her tongue.

“You okay?” she asked with a grin threatening to seep onto her lips. Heather just slammed her mug back down and snapped her head towards her to glare at her with an ice cold stare.

“No, you asshole!” she spat. As in, there was still a bit off coffee left to spit. Veronica told herself she somewhat deserved it to land on her grey skirt. “Look, it doesn’t matter if your both our friends,” she said, hooking her fingers around Veronica’s collar. “What’s going on between us isn’t about  _ you _ .”   


Veronica frowned.

“But it is!” she protested, clasping her hands around Heather’s to gently remove it from her collar. She didn’t let go, and she noticed the gesture seemed to alert her. “You’re fighting because  _ I _ fucked both of you!” Her grip tightened a little. “It’s my fault, not Mara’s. If you’re going to blame anyone, then blame it on me!”

“Blame  _ you _ for  _ her _ going behind  _ my _ back?” she scoffed. “Yeah, sure, Sawyer.”

“But I did too!” she argued. “I mean… I guess?” She released Heather’s hand. “Granted, I had full right to do what I did so I didn’t really do anything wrong…”

Heather rested her head on her hand as she listened.

“Go on,” she prompted, giving a sly smile.

“Well, Mara didn’t do anything either,” Veronica said.

“She did you,” Heather corrected, causing her to lose track of her own words.

“I-” She blinked. “Not what I meant.”

Heather then let out a groan.

“I  _ know _ what you mean, ‘Ronica,” she declared, standing up from the couch. “And quite frankly, that’s full of shit. She went behind my back.  _ Twice _ . End of story.”

“But that’s not- wait, twice?” Veronica gave a puzzled look as Heather stalked around the glass table and aimlessly began to wander around her room.

“Yes, twice,” Heather said, letting herself drift over to the wardrobe, where she stopped. “She told me about your little  _ team up _ ,” she sneered, opening her closet and snatching something from the floor. When she turned back around, Veronica saw that it was her all-too familiar pair of heels. She was pretty sure her face must have whitened, the dread hit her so hard.

“I-” she stammered. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Heather locked eyes with her, refusing to tear her gaze away as she flung the shoes back into her closet. She didn’t bother checking if they were still in tact as she slammed the closet shut with her heel.

“Stop lying to me,” she spat. “If you came here to apologise, then do it. I’m sick of hearing fake apologies.” Her eyes then dropped to the floor, and her tense shoulders dropped. “Granted, I’d always ask for them, and they’d always come from Heather,” she mumbled, her voice so quiet that Veronica almost didn’t pick up on her words. “But now I’m telling you, just fucking tell me whether you’re sorry or not, Tha-” She cleared her throat. “Sawyer.”

“Okay…” Veronica slowly nodded. “Well, I guess… no. No, I’m definitely not sorry for teaming up with Heather and going behind your back.” She sheepishly looked up at her as she sauntered back towards her. “Because you were going to kill me.”

Heather rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t actually going to kill you.”

“Then rephrase.  _ Destroy _ me,” she said. “Or,  _ destroy _ my reputation, to be more specific.” She straightened herself up. “Heather offered to help me… not get destroyed. I wasn’t about to deny that offer. I wanted to get out of high school alive, and I wasn’t about to let you step all over me.”   


Heather remained silent.

“So sure, it was a little sleazy for her to betray you, as your best friend, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.” She was sure she saw a twinkle of guilt in Heather’s blue gaze. “I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, Heather, but I’m not sorry for me, or for her, saving my ass from you.” She narrowed her gaze at her. “Perhaps if you weren’t such a heartless bitch, she wouldn’t have had to do it in the first place.”

Heather fell completely silent, and remained as such for a good few seconds that seemed so drawn out when she wasn’t speaking a word.

“I take it back,” she eventually said quietly. “I miss hearing fake apologies.”

Veronica arched a brow at her. “No take backs.”

“But that actually stung a little,” she whined.

“So does watching two of your friends fighting because of something  _ I _ did!”

Heather scoffed.

“It takes two to fuck.”

“So it’s not entirely her fault, then.”

Heather then inhaled deeply, clenching her fists.

“ _ Okay _ ,” she breathed. “Fine. Sure. She was just being  _ nice _ when she helped you not die from my hands.” She hooked her fingers in a way that made them look like talons. “I can at least understand that. And I’m not even that mad that she did, because I’m glad you’re still here.”

Veronica’s heart skipped a beat. “You are?”

But Heather didn’t acknowledge her question, instead just continued to ramble.

“I’m just mad that…” She bit her lip, and her gaze grew more solemn. “I don’t know. I’ve always trusted her with everything. And she trusts  _ me _ with everything!” Veronica could hear the genuine hurt begin to break through into her voice. “So why is she suddenly… not?” She continued to anxiously chew on her lip, and Veronica couldn’t help but feel at least a little empathy for the look in her eye. Damaged, and about to break.

She hated that she felt some form of comfort in the fact that she’d seen this before, so this was by no means unfamiliar. Then again… it still didn’t make it uncommon.

Damage Heather Chandler of all people, and you know you had a pretty strong weapon to be able to do such a thing. In other words, she fucked up. She fucked up bad.

_ Did I? _ she then mused to herself.  _ Did I fuck up? What have I done wrong? _ She hardly noticed herself nibble her bottom lip, teeth pinching skin. She only stopped when she pulled too hard and caused a sharp pain to shoot through her. She tore her attention away from herself and back towards Heather, whose fingers were still tapping her own arm as they protectively wrapped around her chest.

_ Well, this wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for me, for starters. _

Her body suddenly became alert at the odd thought that had somehow managed to slither out from the depths of her subconscious. The type of self deprecating thoughts she had forced down over the years, refusing to release. She swallowed.

_ No, Veronica. You’re not doing this now. _

She bit the inside of her cheek, and forced herself to tune back in to Heather as she continued to speak.

“She just doesn’t trust me anymore!” she lamented. “She would always come to me about her troubles, always want me to fix them, and suddenly she’s just  _ not _ !” She ran her hand through her hair and gave an angered sigh, and Veronica felt her heart clench with guilt.

_ But I’m not wrong, _ she thought,  _ she wouldn’t be in this state if it weren’t for me _ .

She reminded herself to deeply inhale and then exhale, pushing down the urge to become completely disconnected to what was happening, but replacing it with a growing ache in her throat. She clung onto the sound of Heather’s voice, but tried her very best to not to let her words in, not when they risked making her feel even more like shit. And yet, it was so hard to not listen into what she was saying.

“And now she’s suddenly clinging onto  _ you _ ? Why? What am I doing wrong?”

Veronica bit down on her lip hard and sniffed.

“Mm-mm,” she hummed with a shrug, in an attempt to reply with “I don’t know” without having to say the words. Not when her throat was aching, and her voice threatening to break.  _ Not now. _

“Please,” Heather scoffed. “You must know  _ something _ . She seems to trust  _ you _ a bunch, after all.” She stalked around the glass table and stopped to lean her hip against the arm of the sofa. “Do tell, if there’s been anything said about me at all.”

Veronica didn’t realise she was grinding her teeth together until a horrid, cringeworthy sound raked through her brain when her jaw slipped and caused her teeth to clatter against each other. At the very least, it broke her out of the memory of Mara bitching about Chandler. Even if it was justified, she didn’t want to prove Chandler right.

_ Congrats, Sawyer, you stole Heather’s best friend. _

She blinked a few times when her vision grew blurry.  _ Fuck! _ Her head stayed low, avoiding any sort of eye contact with Heather.

“‘Ronica? Hello?” Heather chimed, and by how her voice grew a little closer, she could tell she was leaning closer.

_ Either speak now or make a fool of yourself, _ she thought, and she sharply inhaled.

“Sorry,” she spluttered, her voice breaking as expected. She felt her face heat up in embarrassment and the rim circling her eyes growing more wet, and in a vain attempt to recover before Heather could notice, she wiped away the tears that had developed with her sleeve, and sniffled again.

“Um…” she heard Heather say. Clearly she had picked up on the fact that she had already tipped over the verge of tears. Still, she wasn’t about to let her see that and confirm any suspicions.

“Um… I don’t- don’t know,” she tried to answer her question, forcing her voice to remain stable, but it was a weak attempt, and nowhere near enough to fool Heather.

“‘Ronica-” Heathers voice grew a little softer, to her surprise. “Look up at me.”

“Mhmm? I’m fine,” she desperately tried to convince her, though she knew it was useless.

“Look up at me and prove it,” Heather told her. Veronica, feeling as if she were trapped either way, just squeezed her eyes shut one final time and inhaled deeply, before daring to lift her her up ever so slightly at Heather. Surprisingly, she was met with not a judgemental or suspicious glare, but a concerned and confused gaze. It willed her to lift her head a little more to lock eyes with hers, feeling as though doing so was safer than averting her gaze.

“Oh,” is all Heather said, before she took a step closer and sat down, their sides brushing against each other ever so gently. Veronica sniffed again, and felt a little tickle at the back of her throat. She let out a cough.

“I-” she attempted to say, before coughing again. “It’s nothing. I’m just-” She wiped her eyes. “Sorry.”

“It’s… um, what for?”

“Just-” she let out a whimper. “I dunno, I feel like I’ve stolen your best friend.” Apprehensively, she forced herself to look back towards her. “And generally just caused a load of shit.”

“I mean-” Heather began, licking her lips as she searched for her words. “This has caused shit, don’t get me wrong, but…” She cocked her head to the side. “Hmm.”

“You don’t have to go easy on me to stop me crying, you know,” Veronica muttered.

Heather shot her a glare. “I’m not,” she retorted. “I’m trying to think how to word this.” She seemed to zone back out of reality, shown by her blue eyes flickering around the room at random. Veronica could only watch her intently, while letting out the occasional hiccup that she was sure Heather probably found irritating.

“Okay, look,” Heather eventually said, sighing. “What’s going on between Mac and I, it was… it was probably inevitable.” By how quiet her voice became, it sounded to Veronica as if she were admitting some sort of defeat. “Our argument  _ was _ about you, sure, but it warped into something else entirely.” She twiddled her thumbs and sheepishly glanced at her. “I was mad at her for this - I still am - but she’s mad at me about… a lot of other things.”

Veronica blinked more tears out of her eyes and gave a nod.

“What I’m saying is…” She straightened herself up. “Yeah, you kinda triggered all this, but you didn’t cause it.”

Heather’s words weren’t usually ones made for comfort, but in that moment, Veronica couldn’t help but feel her spirit was at least a little lifted. It was a shock, but a very pleasant one that created a consolatory warmth in her chest.

“Well, I’m glad,” she said, her voice hoarse. “That I haven’t caused anything, that is.”

The corners of Heather’s mouth quirked up for a split second.

“Sorry if I made you feel like you did,” she then said.

“Oh, no, you didn’t!” Veronica replied, her hand rushing to land on her thigh as to reassure her. “I’ve just been a little… emotional, lately. I guess.”

At the very least, Heather’s hand landing over hers was enough to hold her left over sobs back, replaced by a skip of her heart beat.

“It isn’t because of the shit happening with Heather and I, is it?”

Veronica opened her mouth to reply “no”, but she had to stop and think -  _ was _ it? Her actual answer was  _ “I haven’t been sleeping well” _ , but she was still unable to pinpoint why her sleeping schedule had been thrown off the unorganised mess that it already was.

“I… don’t really know,” she said, slumping back against the couch. “I mean, I  _ do _ know, and that’s because I’ve gotten almost no fucking sleep for the past few nights.” She stole her hand back so she could dig both of them into the fabric of her skirt. “But why  _ that _ is could be just… literally anything.” She gazed at her with tired, heavy eyes. “I mean, my sleeping patterns are already fucked, but at least I wouldn’t end up seeing the sunrise before getting at least a  _ bit _ of sleep.” She twisted her body around and let her head rest on the soft white material, not bothering to keep her eyes open. “Or, you know, I’d actually  _ stay _ asleep when I managed to knock myself out.”

A pause. Then some shuffling, followed by footsteps. She blinked open an eye, and saw that Heather was no longer sitting next to her. She could hear her walking across her room, but with how she had curled up just enough to feel cozy and warm, she didn’t want to shift positions. So instead, she just listened to Heather as she pulled out some drawers and rummage through whatever clutter may be in there. Eventually it stopped, and the drawer was pushed back in. Veronica took that as a cue to blink open her eye again, and once she did, she witnessed Heather dropping back onto the couch, her hand now clutching a little capsule which rattled with each slight movement.

Curious, Veronica lifted her head off the couch and opened both eyes, just in time for Heather to shove the capsule towards her.

“Take it,” Heather told her. Veronica blinked at her, but obeyed.

“What is it?”

“Sleeping pills,” Heather replied, her voice growing a little more sheepish as she shuffled slightly closer. “I used to take them, but they don’t really work anymore, so…” She shrugged. “You can have them.”

Veronica gave her a questionable look. “I mean, thank you, but is that a good plan?” She glanced at the capsule. “Shouldn’t I be prescribed?”

“Oh, no,” Heather said, shaking her head. “They’re just some herbal pills.” She took the tub back and pointed to the small writing on the label. “Is this the instructions or ingredients? I can’t tell.”

Veronica let out a light huff. “Ingredients.”

“Ah.” She tapped it with her nail. “Well, you can just read that then, if you’re so concerned about what’s in them.”

“Well… thank you?” she said as they were handed back to her. She slipped them in a pocket of her blazer. “And… I didn’t know you’ve had sleeping problems.”

Heather looked at her grimly. “You mean,  _ I have _ ?” she corrected her. “Yeah. I thought you already knew that.”

Veronica gave her a puzzled look. “No, I didn’t.”

Heather let out a faux laugh and looked down at her hands as they played with the hem of her robe. “You’ve slept with me - in more ways than one - you’re telling me you noticed nothing?”

Veronica bit the inside of her cheek as she thought back to that first night they had shared a bed. Quite a while ago, now that she thought about it, and she couldn’t help but feel a little empty in realising the memory was growing more distant.

“I didn’t think that was a constant thing,” she replied. “I figured it was just because it was a rough night.”

Heather chewed on her lip.

“It was better than it could have been,” she murmured, before looking back at her, and speaking before Veronica had a chance to reply. “But… they should help you stay asleep. You’ll be drowsy, but that’s kinda the point in them.”

Veronica gave her a smile and nodded, and was returned with a simper from Heather, followed by a long-nailed finger only slightly missing her eye as it swiped at her corners that were still stained in tears. 

“No more crying over Heather and I, understand?”

Veronica let out a weak giggle and nodded.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” Heather said. “Because it’s not your fault. It’s… whatever it was that caused it to begin with.”

Veronica’s brows knitted. “That being…?”   


“I-” her mouth clamped shut. “That’s for us to figure out.”

Veronica new she should let it settle that whatever it may be causing such a disruption to what she had assumed was a fairly strong friendship was beyond her control. And yet, even with some of the blame lifted off of her shoulders, she couldn’t help but feel some sort of responsibility. Or more just like…

“I’m here if you need me,” she told her. Heather’s eyes fluttered at her, widening a little. “Just… if I can help.”

Heather faintly smiled at her, and Veronica assumed it was some for of gratitude, before she let out a light, dismissive huff.

“You won't need to,” she told her. “We’ve been friends for years. Since we were six. Whatever  _ this _ is isn’t going to change that.” There was an underlying sense of doubt lurking beneath her confident tone, while her eyes grew cloudy with what looked like a distant memory being played in her head. “She trusts me with everything. That won’t have changed.”

Veronica tilted her head a little and placed a hand on her shoulder. Heather didn’t move.

“Are you sure?”

Heather didn’t respond for a moment, though she eventually snapped her head towards her.

“Hmm?”

“I said, are you sure?”

Heather stared at her with a foggy gaze, before giving a nod.

“Of course I’m sure.”

 

* * *

Chandler didn’t exactly have a good impression of Mac’s mother. Not after she had insulted her at the doctor’s.

But if hanging around her meant spending more time with Mac, she was willing to do it. Especially since this time, she didn’t have to stand still. No, she could hop and leap and skip all she wanted, so long as she didn’t bump into anyone else lingering around in the aisles of the store, something she had been scolded for doing in the past. Many times.

She had currently occupied herself with staring longingly at the many sweets and snacks that decorated the shelves. So many were out of reach, to her chagrin, but she had full access to all that which was on the bottom shelves, and it took all her willpower to just not hoard every treat she could.

“Wed vines, Jiffy Pop, Cown Nut-th,” she listed, half to herself, half to Mac, who was following her close behind. “Do you think any of that ith here?”

Mac gave a nod, before stopping in her tracks, leaning down and grabbing a red and yellow bag of what she recognised as a corn nuts packet. She then watched as she picked up her pace and latched onto to her father’s trousers, catching his attention. She waved the packet around to him, and he took hold of it.

“You want these?”

Mac simply pointed towards Chandler, and her father’s gaze followed, and he nodded in understanding.

“Ah.” He gave a light chuckle, before tossing them into the shopping cart. It caught the attention of Mac’s mother, who was tightly gripping the handle. She shot her husband an odd look.  
  
“Corn nuts?” she questioned.

“Heather wanted them.”

“Since when does she like stuff like that?”

“No no, Red Heather,” he explained. Her mother shot a glare at Chandler, before looking back at her husband.

“Must you call her that?” she muttered. “Just call her Heather C or something.”

“Heather wants me to call her Red Heather,” he said. Chandler picked up on an eye roll from Mac’s mother, before she grabbed a bag of her own off the parallel shelf and threw it into the cart, before moving forward. Chandler took a glance down at the end of the aisle, and immediately gained the urge to launch herself forward. The coast was clear - no one in the aisle but them.

“Mac!” she called, and Mac scampered up to her. “Wa-the you to the bottom of the aisle!”

Mac glanced ahead, before looking back at her and giving a nod. They didn’t even bother to count, they simply darted forward, Chandler having to idea where Mac may be with her eyes glued to the end. She was so sure she was going to win, too, if it weren’t for-

“ _ Girls! _ ”

Chandler leaped out of her skin at the sudden sound of Mac’s mother barking at them both. Her heart sank as she dared to turn around, feet still frozen in place in the same position as they were while she had been running. She had to stop herself from cowering in fear when she was met with the angered glare of the woman.

“Stop being ridiculous!” she hissed at them.

Chandler swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling her whole body heat up with shame and embarrassment. She didn’t even bother to look around to spot Mac again as she scurried back behind the two parents, only looking up when she was positive she was out of view of Mac’s mother. When she lifted her head at last, she saw that Mac had huddled close to her, likely feeling the same amount of shame that she did, if not more.

“She just doesn’t want you to trip and fall,” Mac’s father then spoke, turning around to speak with them with a softer tone. “It could be a slippery floor.”

She could tell it was supposed to be a much softer blow, but Chandler’s wound had already been opened, and she couldn’t help but just hang her head again until she saw him begin to walk forward, so she could assume he was no longer looking down at her.

_ You silly idiot, Heather, _ she scolded herself.  _ Now you’re getting yelled at by  _ other _ people’s parents! _

She dared to look over to Mac, whose expression was as unreadable as usual, but she still felt a feeling of guilt as they were led to another aisle. She could only hope Mac wasn’t too mad at her - she had been the one to cause her being yelled at after all.

Deciding to play it safe, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for some form of apology to spill from her mouth, only to be cut off by Mac’s small hand latching onto her wrist as she let out a little gasp. Chandler didn’t have a chance to ask what she was doing before she was being pulled a little further down the new aisle, which she had not yet realised was the toy aisle - an aisle she’d usually be  _ ecstatic _ about.

“Where awe you-” she tried to asked, but again, Mac interrupted her by latching her arm around her’s, an excited grin on her face. Chandler gave her a questioning look, confused as to what she was trying to tell her. She was handed Sunshine, who Mac had been carrying around all day, so that she would have a free hand, which she used to grab a textbook from one of she shelves in front of her. On the cover was a dinosaur, and when Mac flipped the book open, inside they were both met with many pictures of different dinosaur types.

“Oh, dinothaur,” she said, staring at the pretty diagrams decorating the shiny pages. “I didn’t know you liked dinothaurth.”

Mac beamed at her and nodded, before flicking through the book at a quickened pace, and landing on what looked like a feathered meat-eating dinosaur with an extra long claw on both its feet.

_ “My favourite,” _ she signed to her. Chandler smiled at her, feeling both joy and relief that Mac appeared to hold no grudge towards her. Thank goodness.

“What-th the dinothaurth name?” she asked. Mac pointed to what appeared to be the title of the page, and Chandler leaned over slightly in an attempt to read the long word in front of her.

“Ve… Velci… Velock…” She bit her lip. The text may have been big, but the word was… very long.

“Velociraptor.” Mac’s father’s voice suddenly sounded from behind them, and in looking up, she saw he was peeking over them both.

“Oh,” she said. Even in looking at the word, she still couldn’t tell where exactly he had gotten that pronunciation from.

After he had left them to their own devices, Mac then placed the book back on the shelf and kneeled down onto the floor to get a better view of the bottom shelf. Chandler did the same, and watched her as she searched through the many dinosaur toys and figures, while practically shaking with enthusiasm, so much that Chandler couldn’t help but giggle at how joyful she had become.

Eventually she grabbed a soft plush dinosaur and gave it a cuddle, though not without glancing at Sunshine and signing,  _ “Sorry.” _ Poor Sunshine must be so jealous.

“Don’t wowwy, I’ll take care of her!” Chandler reassured her, holding her closely and tightly. Mac smiled at her, before turning back and swapping the plush dinosaur for what appeared to be a bucket full of small, yet detailed dinosaur figurines. Her hazel eyes lit up - she even blew her brown bangs out of her face to get a better view.

She scrambled onto her feet, and so did Chandler, and began to observe the bucket up and down, left and right. Chandler was sure she had never seen her so fascinated with anything. Her eyes still glued to the tub, one of her hands was held out towards Chandler, and she took that as a sign to return Sunshine to her. As she continued to stare at it, her father came into Chandler’s view, stopping just behind her.

“You want the bucket of dinosaurs, Heather?”

Mac didn’t stop staring at it, she only nodded.

“Well, you can take it with you if you want, and I’ll pay for it.”

An audible gasp was heard from Mac, and she stared up at her father in amazement. Her father just chuckled, gave her a pat on the head, then moved slightly further along the aisle, where her mother resided.

“Yay, Mac!” Chandler squealed, hopping over to her. “You get dinothaurth!”

Mac continued to grin, shaking the bucket around a little and listening to the rattle of the figurines inside. She was surprised she was able to hold back opening the tub up there and then.

The excitement was interrupted, however, with the sound of wheels skating across the hard floor, stopping not too far away from both of them. The two of them looked up to see Mac’s mother eyeing Mac with an icy glare. Chandler could feel her pulse racing at the mere presence of her. She was on edge. Scared she’d be scolded at yet again.

“Heather, what are you doing with that?” she said with a low voice and a narrowed gaze. “Put it back.”

Chandler felt her heart sink as she turned her gaze back to Mac, whose glee had seemed to vanish, replaced by disappointment and confusion. She didn’t move from her spot, only tightened her hold on the bucket.

“Heather,” her mother spoke again, raising her voice. Mac visibly flinched. “I said,  _ put it back. _ ”

Chandler, feeling her throat becoming dryer by the second, swallowed. Mac failed to move, and instead just looked down at her bucket.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

In looking closely, Chandler saw Mac’s lips move. They were pursed and rubbing together, before she saw the slightest parting as her head was lifted up. And in hearing the slightest gasp, Chandler was sure she was going to hear a sound that wasn’t a laugh from her. Perhaps she would have, if-

“ _ Heather Elle! _ ”

Her voice was sharp enough to split through their ear drums, it could have hurt. Chandler had to take a step back. Mac, however…

She was still frozen in place.

In focusing on her a little more - anything to avoid the vexed glare of her mother - she could see her limbs were shaking. Her feet were shifting. Her eyes were darting back and forth, and her hands were awkwardly crawling over the two objects she held. Especially Sunshine - her yellow fur would be clutched and stroked and pulled.

“Right-” was all she heard Mac’s mother mutter before she let go of the shopping cart to snatch the bucket off of her. Chandler’s chest felt heavy as she watched it being ripped from her grasp, but that was nothing compared to Mac’s expression warping from one of confusion to one of pure  _ horror _ .

“Uh-” she let out a grunt. An actual grunt. It sounded strained, but Chandler heard it loud and clear. And with how close Mac’s mother stood to her, she heard it to. “Mmm!” A hum. One of desperation. Just a plea that could easily be translated to,  _ give it back! _

“Stop being a brat.” Her mother spat pure venom as she went to to put the bucket back on the shelf. As she did, Mac’s tiny arm lashed out - probably an attempt to grab it - and knocked it out of her hand and onto the floor, dinosaur figurines spilling everywhere. It wasn’t a loud crash. Not to Chandler, but it was noise that would weave in and out of the sound of Mac’s mother’s yelling, filling in any gaps that would be used as an escape. 

“That’s  _ enough _ !” she bellowed. Mac slammed her hands over her ears as the words left her tongue. The action, however, turned out to be a mistake, as her mother grabbed Sunshine, who could now easily slip out from the weak grip Mac had with her one arm wrapped around her. With the loss of the teddy, she opened her eyes and ears and cried out in distress, staring up at her plush which was now out of reach. Regardless, she attempted to grab it, and whimpered, almost sobbed each time she failed.

“Stop being so ridiculous!” her mother hissed at her, holding Sunshine as far away from her as possible. “We’re in public! This is not an acceptable way to behave when you want something!” She placed Sunshine in the cart, and Mac let out a cry as she charged towards it, grabbing at the metal grid that acted as a barrier.

“ _ No! _ ”

The shriek was too loud. Even for Chandler, who had to cover her ears herself, if only for a second. But she had looked away for a moment, and when she looked back, Mac was being held by the arm, her mother’s hand tightly holding it away from the cart. She guessed she had been dragged away from it. Forcefully.

There were tears in Mac’s eyes as she let out a distraught wail. It was loud, but it didn’t stop her mother from yelling at her.

“You will get it back when you learn to  _ behave _ yourself!”

It only fueled the fire, as Mac was now bawling and thrashing about, trying to escape her mother’s grasp. It was in no particular direction. It looked as if she just wanted to  _ get away _ .

“Stop that-” her mother tried to scold her again, only to have a child’s fist slammed into her arm. She yelped and released her, and Mac immediately stumbled away, still crying and hugging herself, as if she were imagining Sunshine was in her hold still.

Chandler so desperately wanted to tell her mother what she’d been told. That she thought she’d be able to buy it and keep it. That this wasn’t her fault. But each time she tried to open her mouth to speak up, she would shudder, she’d cower, she’d feel her body grow hot and shake with fear.

She couldn’t do anything.

“Love, wait-”

Mac’s father hurried over to her, nudging her off to the side. Chandler managed to pick up,

“I told her she could buy them. It’s not her fault.”

Her mother scoffed. “Well she’s not getting it now!”

“I don’t think you should be so harsh with her-”

“Why not? You’ve said yourself I should be treating her like I’d treat any other child.”

“I don’t think…”

She would have paid more attention, but the sound of Mac’s cries were too much. She looked back over to her friend, and saw that she was now on the floor, rocking back and forth and sobbing.

“Um…” Chandler squeaked. “Mac?”

Mac didn’t respond, she just continued to sob and grip the hem of her black dress, tugging at it repeatedly.

“Awe you okay?” she asked, about to kneel down next to her, only to be stopped by,

“Heather!”

She didn’t think it would be her being called, but instinctively, she turned her head to Mac’s mother anyway, and was met with eyes staring right at her. It struck fear deep within her.  _ Did I do something wrong? _

She simply gestured towards the scattered dinosaurs on the floor. “Pick those up, please.”

Chandler regrettably had to step away from Mac, feeling as though disobeying would only cause even more uproar, but she didn’t do so without whispering a, “Thowwy,” to her.

She leaned down and began to gather all the dinosaurs up, and in doing so, admired the variety in their figures, forms and colours. They all looked so interesting, and she discovered an understanding as to why Mac wanted the bucket so much.

And in holding several tiny dinosaurs in her tiny palm, a wicked idea popped to mind. Her parents may even call it sinful.

She glanced over her shoulder. Mac was still on the floor, and she could still hear her crying. At least now her father was attempting to console her. Mac’s mother? She just gave the two of them one last glare before stalking off down the aisle. She was gone.

“Do you need any help, Heather?” she heard her father call.

“Mmm-mm,” she replied, shaking her head, and returning to her task.

She scurried over to the shelf, pushing all the dinosaurs towards it and scooping them up into the bucket. Well, most of them. But ever so subtly, she would sneak one under her palm - mainly the cooler looking ones - grab it and quickly shove it into the pockets of her white cardigan. Then another one. And then another. And another. And another…

She knew to not let her pocket overflow, or look full. That would be too suspicious. No, just have a few in each one.

The lid was sealed. It was put back on the shelf. Nothing out the ordinary. Other than her heart racing and her palms sweating.

“I’ll take you both back to the car,” her father told them just as she stepped back from the shelf. She spun around, almost toppling over, and saw that Mac was now standing. Still sniffling and sobbing, but standing up.

“Mhmm!” Chandler squeaked, pressing her arms against her pockets to make them appear as flat as they could. She followed Mac’s father as he began to walk down the aisle, his movements somber. She, however, couldn’t stop how jittery her nervous body was becoming with each step they took towards the exit. She kept wondering if she should confess. Return to the shelf. Apologise and put the dinosaurs back. But each time she heard Mac whimper, she held back those urges. For her sake.

She couldn’t hold back the loud gasp of relief as they left the building. Gosh. She was actually doing this. She had just stole dinosaur toys.

_ God, I will pray three extra times tonight, I promise, _ she thought.  _ But Mac’s sad, and she really, really wanted these dinosaurs. _

They were both led to the car, the door opened wide for them. Mac clambered in first so she could shift over to the booster seat on the far side, and Chandler climbed in second. Mac’s seat belt was done for her first, but when it came to her, she froze up, fearing that his hand would brush over her pockets as he dragged the belt over her, and she’d be found. After  _ all that _ .

She dared to glance at him as he finished buckling her in.

“You comfortable?” is all he asked. She held back a sigh of relief and just nodded. “Good.”

He shut the door. Phew.

A few moments of silence. Well, silence, with the occasional sniff and hiccup.

Chandler looked over to Mac, who was rocking back and forth slightly in her seat, making an ever-so-light thumping sound.

“Do you feel better?” she asked. Mac hardly moved her head to look at her, only her eyes. She blinked a few times, before looking forward again. Chandler frowned, and when she looked down, saw her arms were still hugging herself.

“Do you… mith Thunthine?”

Mac didn’t respond for a few moments, and when she did, it was a light nod.

Chandler grimaced.

“I’m thowwy,” she murmured. What she was sorry for, she wasn’t sure. Maybe just sorry that all of this ever happened. Mac didn’t seem to take notice either way, she just tightened her hold on herself.

The air was uncomfortably heavy, and Chandler could only wish there was something she could say, or something to give her to hold. She could give her the dinosaurs, but right now didn’t seem like a great time. If only she had something soft and fluffy. Anything remotely similar to Sunshine.

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, her hand being stopped half way by the scrunchie that tied her messy locks up and held them in place. Absentmindedly, her hand stroked the soft surface of the scrunchie, wondering what she could do, or what she could give.

Wait.

Her hand latched onto her scrunchie, and she  _ pulled _ . Some strands were yanked too hard, and it hurt, but otherwise it came out smoothly. Her her immediately flopped everywhere, some over her face, and she had to blow it out the way.

“Here.”

Mac looked in her direction, and became puzzled when she was met with a hand holding out her large, bow-shaped red scrunchie towards her.

“I know it-th not Thunthine, but…” Chandler shrugged, looking sheepish. “It-th  _ thomething _ .”

Mac stared at her for a while, before her eyes drifted back to the scrunchie. Slowly, she reached out for it, her hand latching onto it. Chandler released it once she was sure she was holding onto it firmly. She watched in anticipation as Mac hesitantly began to fidget with it. It was slow. Her fingers would gently brush over the bow, her palms not moving. Then, gradually, she moved one hand so that she could twirl the loose ribbons around her finger, then slip it out again. She did that several times.

It was calming, watching her become entranced with it. She couldn’t help but smile as Mac would hold it close to her chest, stroking her thumbs over the bow and tapping her fingers on it. Perhaps it was how the misery that had been haunting her for the past while seemed to fade the longer she would play with it.

_ Maybe now I can show her! _ She grinned, before shooting a quick glance to outside. Mac’s father was lingering around the car, and in the distance, she spotted Mac’s mother making her way over to them. She gasped and quickling dug into her pockets quickly, pulling out the dinosaurs as best she could without dropping them everywhere.

“Hey,” she caught Mac’s attention again with a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone thith… but…” She slowly unfolded her hands in front of her, revealing the miniature figurines in her palms. She smiled and looked back up at Mac, who was staring at them, wide-eyed.

“I took thome of them,” she explained, underlying guilt in her tone. “Becau-the you weally wanted them... “

Mac silently held out a hand towards her, and Chandler dropped one hand full into her palm. She gazed at them in awe, eyes sparkling with delight. Any guilt that Chandler may have had seem to be drowned out by the warm feeling in her chest as she watched a smile crawl onto her lips again.

“Do you like them?” she asked hopefully. Mac looked up at her and gave a nod and a simper.

Chandler smiled back, relieved, but was interrupted by the sound of muffled voices outside. She glanced out the window, and saw that Mac’s parents were both conversing and unpacking their shopping load from the cart and carrying it to the trunk. She gasped.

“Hide them!”

Mac obeyed, shoving them into a pocket she had on her black dress. Chandler made sure the ones in her own pocket were hidden, and it was done just in time for the door to swing open on Mac’s side. Mac flinched when she saw her mother standing on the other side.

“You done crying now?”

Mac nodded frantically. In response, her mother simply shoved Sunshine back towards her. Mac eagerly latched onto her.

“Give Heather back her scrunchie,” she then said, before slamming the door shut again. The sound was loud and Mac jumped, covering her ears a little, but Chandler remained still.

She had been told many times that adults were right about everything, and that she should always obey them. She’d been told that they’d always sort things out, always protect you from problems.

But Mac’s mother? No. She did none of those things.

Feeling a sudden wave of anger, she reached out towards Mac, who was holding her scrunchie out towards her to return it. She didn’t take it back, she simple gently held her hand, and gazed at her warmly. Mac blinked, but she returned the gesture, and with a scrunchie wrapped around both of their hands, they linked their fingers with one another.

No words were spoken as her parents got into the front of the car to start it up. She heard nothing but the engine, but could feel the warmth of Mac’s hand around hers, and the soft texture of her scrunchie wrapped around her fingers.

So long as Mac was with her, and so long as she was able to keep her close, no one could hurt her. Not anymore. People like her mother may never try to understand her, and understand why she was such a great friend, why she was so fun to hang around, why she was such an interesting person to her.

Anyone who didn’t understand her, and didn’t bother understanding her weren’t going to hurt her. Not if she could help it. A bold statement, perhaps. But if she could, she would do anything to keep her safe.

Her grip on her hand tightened a little. Not enough to hurt, she hoped, but enough to send a message. It may have not been words or signing, but with how Mac squeezed her hand back, she knew it was clear regardless.

_ Don’t worry. _

_ I’ll protect you. _

**Author's Note:**

> i am sorry about mac's mother, i will gladly take suggestions on her fate in the future
> 
>  
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


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